What Happens In Budapest
by ZoeKar
Summary: ...apparently doesn't stay in Budapest cause Clint Barton brought home more than a simple fridge magnet as a souvenir. He brought a person. The same person he was sent to eliminate. But... why?


**A/N: Basically wrote this mostly to practice my action scene writing. Might turn it into an actual story if you guys like it, though so drop a review my way if you feel like it! Keep in mind that this is an entirely different fandom than what I usually write for so it may be a little sloppy at first. I'll get the hang of it though!**

 **1.**

"Hawkeye," the man flinched slightly as his earpiece came to life but he didn't utter a word. "Hawkeye, mission report."

He sighed, "I got my eye on little Charlotte. Should be in and out within the hour."

"That was fast, Barton. Even for you." The female voice on the other end chuckled softly.

"Are you proud of that joke, Hill?" asked the archer, perched on the side of the highest rooftop he could find within his shooting range.

"Yes actually," replied the woman, her smile evident in her tone of voice, and the man rolled his eyes, failing to stop a tiny laugh from escaping his lips. "Fury wants this dealt with, Clint." The female voice suddenly grew serious, leaving behind all traces of the friendly banter that was taking place just seconds before.

Hawkeye grunted slightly, "She's a kid, Maria. Why not help her instead of taking her out of the equation? We can show her there's more to the world than what she's known."

There was a sigh from the other end of the intercom. He knew Maria Hill had no actual authority when it came to Fury's orders. "You knew this was coming when you signed up... Fury was adamant, he won't accept anything less than her head on a silver platter." She was only half joking.

Hawkeye was about to respond when he caught a flash of red moving below him in the corner of his eye. "Target's on the move. I'll keep you updated," he muttered and turned off his earpiece altogether, not giving Agent Hill a chance to protest.

"Now now, little spider. Let's see if your bites really are as deadly as they say," the man whispered to himself as he jumped silently from rooftop to rooftop, his eyes always trained on his target.

He had read, practically memorized, the file S.H.I.E.L.D had on her. Nineteen-year-old assassin with a skillset that went on for days and more than enough bounties on her head. Trained in Russia, in the infamous Red Room, where the girls that went in never came out the same. Clint could barely imagine the hardships all those girls had been put through; some of the world's deadliest assassins had come from that place, and he was now in the presence of one.

He had yet to see the notorious Black Widow in action, but her reputation preceded her. Word was she could find as many as twelve different ways to kill a man using a plastic spoon, but, while Clint couldn't help but be in awe of the young spy slash assassin, he was just a little bit skeptical when it came to that specific skill of hers. Being the realist he was, he would have to see for himself.

He stopped his musings abruptly when the girl turned to a dark alley and proceeded to stand extremely still, almost as if she was listening for something.

"I know you're following me," she stated simply, her voice raspy and deep. The sound of it still surprised Clint who was, yet again, expecting a smoother, more child-like voice, despite the fact he had been hearing her talk on and off for almost four days. He kept completely still as he waited for the Widow's next move. "I've known since day one," she continued. "That whole stealth thing doesn't really suit you, Anya."

 _"Anya?"_ Hawkeye mouthed as a dark-clad figure stepped out from the shadows and he finally released a breath he had been holding.

"How did you know?" asked the woman in a heavy Russian accent, and she took a step towards the redhead.

"You're too loud," she stated nonchalantly. "And you wear too much perfume for your own good; always did. This whole alley reeks of you." Hawkeye chuckled silently. That girl had spunk.

"Why didn't you take me out then if you knew?" the woman asked.

"And have Madame herself come for my head? No thanks," she replied. "What do you want?"

"There has been talk, Natasha. Talk of you defying the orders you are given. Defying Madame wasn't enough for you? They as much as suspect you're thinking of turning on them and they will not hesitate to erase you from the map once and for all."

"I'm confused as to where you come in. Last I checked you were still under that hag's spell. Madame sent you to eliminate me, didn't she?" It wasn't as much of a question as it was a statement. She knew that that was the reason why she was being followed ever since she had stepped foot on the place. "How long have you been trying to track me down? Do tell."

"That's not important," the young woman, Anya, muttered and Natasha smirked. She had hit a nerve.

"Ah… for priding yourself to being one of Red Room's finest, most efficient products, you sure do fail to show it." Anya promptly ignored the spy's words. "How afraid of the consequences are you, Anya? In case you fail to... 'erase me from the map' as you put it. You know what punishment a failure like that would bring. I was you just a couple of years ago, in case you forgot. And, in contrast to you, I actually managed to take out my target."

"Yelena," the woman said in a low voice. "You can rest assured, however, dear 'Tasha, that I will not be facing any kind of punishment. I will go through with it, you know I will."

"I told you never to call me that," Natasha muttered, her eyes darkening. As if it wasn't enough the girl was using her first name like they were some kind of close friends, she had taken up using nicknames for her as well. For the spy, being on a first name basis with someone meant that she just had an extra weakness for the enemy to exploit; which was why she always tried to keep all her relationships strictly professional; especially after that incident two years prior. Why Anya of all people had decided that it was even remotely okay to use her first name and then begin using nicknames as well was beyond her. "And yes, Yelena," the redhead continued. "Madame knew what she meant to me and she still made me go through with it. So you can bet your pretty little ass that that witch is going to place a target on Maria's head soon. You know she will. And guess who will be the one going after her for the kill." Natasha's words were harsher than what the other Red Room assassin had expected. Anya gulped, a shadow of doubt crossing her face.

"You can go back to your little hotel over at District Thirteen, and sleep soundly tonight, Anya," Natasha took a small step forward, "knowing that I will not come through your window at night and kill you in your sleep." She slowly ran her index finger along the woman's jaw before taking a step back, folding her arms in front of her chest. "And then tomorrow you can go back and tell them that your hound senses failed you and you lost my scent somewhere along the way. They will probably send someone else to come find me, but it won't be you the second time. It's not too late to turn this around."

"You know I can't do that, 'Tasha," Anya replied and Natasha growled. "Look, Romanoff," this was dragging on longer than the young woman liked. "I was sent here to kill you and that is exactly what I'm going to do. I want people coming after my head just as much as you do."

The Black Widow sighed. "I really didn't want to hurt you, you know," she ignored both the snort and the "since when?" that came from the other girl. "Why do you always have to make things more difficult than they are?"

Anya didn't respond. Instead, she immediately dropped into a fighting stance, ready to pounce on her opponent.

In what seemed like the span of not even a second she found herself thrown backwards by a forceful kick square to her chest that knocked the air out of her for a moment. That very moment that Anya took to catch her breath was more than enough for Natasha to attack again, this time jumping on the girl and wrapping her legs around her neck, squeezing her head with her thighs.

Clint suddenly found himself to be extremely interested in the young woman's fighting technique and sheer agility. He had read in her file that her training had begun when she was extremely young, but he was still amazed by her what she could actually do, something that made S.H.I.E.L.D's decision to eliminate her both logical, and all the more incomprehensible at the same time. Yes, someone like her was most definitely a threat when fighting for the wrong side, but they could work on recruiting her and having an extremely valuable addition to their forces instead of turning against her.

His attention snapped back to the two people fighting below him when the sound of someone being thrown on something hard filled the alley. It was Widow who had found herself on the ground this time. Apparently, Anya had grabbed her by the hair and thrown her off her, straight into the wall, causing her to land on a trash can before finally hitting the ground. She grunted but immediately picked herself up, showing no signs of being hurt in the slightest. She used the seconds Anya took to rub her aching neck to pounce at her again, this time aiming for her legs. All it took was one strong, well-aimed kick behind the girl's knee and Anya was greeted by the hard concrete below her. The Widow sighed as she pulled something out of her jacket pocket and stuck it on the woman's neck. Clint couldn't make out what it was, but it made Anya lose consciousness almost immediately, and Natasha was left to drag her unconscious body out of sight. For a moment, the archer thought she was simply going to dump her in the trash can, but she was smarter than that. Even if she didn't wake up anytime soon, it wouldn't be wise to just leave her there, with no insurance that she wouldn't immediately go after her again. She dragged her former teammate further into the alley, where she was hidden in the shadows and proceeded to handcuff her on a metal pipe. She knew she would be able to escape fairly easily but hopefully long after she would be gone.

When Natasha was content with her handiwork, she straightened her jacket, pulled her long hair out of her face and up in a ponytail, and calmly walked back into the street as if nothing had happened. Clint chuckled as he got up and went back to trailing the girl everywhere she went. In the last few days he had become her shadow, the archer had grown quite fond of that young, incredibly deadly Russian.

* * *

A few hours had gone by since the incident in the alley, and Clint had begun growing restless. It was as if the girl was intentionally working around her set schedule, the one she had been following to a tee for the past few days, just to spite him. There had been more than one times that he thought she was very well aware of his presence and she had been playing him all along, but there was never any sign, any tiny movement on her part that showed he had been made. That was until he lost her tracks completely after she took a turn through an alley that led straight into the very busy marketplace. His hand immediately flew to his earpiece which he had turned on some time ago and turned it off again; the last thing he needed now was a distraction.

The archer's eyes scanned the area below for the assassin and groaned when he couldn't spot the tell-tale flaming red hair.

"Shit," he muttered under his breath as he leaned a little more forward. "Come out to play little Charlotte. I promise I won't bite."

"Last I heard, it was spiders that bit, arrow man." The voice came from behind him and caused Clint's heart to stop beating for a millisecond, and his grip on his bow to tighten. "I wouldn't make a move if I were you," said the woman as she pressed a gun to the back of his head. "Who are you and why are you following me?"

"Hawkeye, really big fan of your work," Clint tried to turn around only to feel the pressure on the back of his head increase.

"Joking around isn't going to help you, Agent Barton." If the man was surprised she knew his name, he didn't show it. He kept on putting up a playful front.

"Ah, so my reputation precedes me after all, I see. How nice to be known by someone of your status." The gun cocked but he did not appear to be phased

"I asked you a question, Agent Barton, and I am not going to ask again," said the young woman in a low voice.

Clint simply smiled. "If you know who I am, I can only assume you also know why I'm here."

"My sources tell me that you are one of S.H.I.E.L.D's finest," Natasha stated. "Makes one wonder just how incompetent the rest of your agency is."

Clint snorted, managing to hide his annoyance. "You've done your homework, I see. What did little ole me do to deserve such attention? And praise if I do say so myself. Thank you for your compliment." He was playing her.

"Well, if you want me to notice you, come after me to kill me. That usually does the trick," she replied, surprising even her own self. Why was she even talking to this guy?

"Aha! So you do know why I'm here. I knew it!" he exclaimed in mock enthusiasm, something that confused Natasha for a second. She pressed the gun even harder on the back of the man's head when he moved again a moment later. "I'm not the only one after you," he stated.

"I knew that was you on the roof. Sloppy."

"Allow me to disagree," Clint had begun losing his patience. She had him cornered and he had to find an escape route fast if he wanted to come out of this unscathed. "If you let me explain, you'll see that I actually _wanted_ you to notice me." Lies.

"So desperate for my affections? Does your boss know you're hitting on me instead of killing me?" She was having none of it.

"Oh I can do both," he retorted smiling smugly.

"Too bad I only do one," came her response and she squeezed the trigger.

In a speed not even _he_ knew he could muster, he twisted his upper body and grabbed the girl by the wrist, raising her arm in the air. The archer lost no time as the shot rang all around them and he quickly swiped her legs out from under her, making her tumble on the hard concrete. She barely even grunted before getting back on her feet and attacking her opponent, this time choosing a more personal approach. She was a master in hand to hand combat and he was a long-range sniper, specialized in bows and arrows. There was no doubt in her mind she could handle him with ease.

She started getting mad when he not only managed to block some of her hits but was also able to land a few strikes of his own. One particularly hard punch in her stomach managed to knock the air out of her for a moment, and that was something he would pay for. Her hits never faltered, never got imprecise. If anything, her rage-fueled her strategic mind to work further, push itself in order to find more ways she could incapacitate him.

The young woman took advantage of every single opening and every single misstep he took, landing more than a few painful hits all over his body. It wasn't long before she managed to slam her palms on the sides of his face, causing him to back away from her, his hands covering his ears. A sly side smile made its way on her lips as she ran towards him and dropped to a slide beneath his legs.

Clint remembered all the sounds around him being merged into a loud, hollow noise. And then he remembered falling to the ground as his legs were suddenly forced apart. Natasha stood behind him, her body hunched forward, ready to make the next move. There were no signs of his opponent being even remotely hurt or tired, he couldn't even hear her breathing heavily like he was.

"Cocky," was all she said before running towards him as he stood back up, and jumped right over his head. She landed in front of him, facing him as her hands slowly moved behind her back to reach for something the archer couldn't see. He knew what it was, however. He had seen her use it on that Red Room assassin earlier and he was ready for it. Just as Natasha made a move for his neck, he took a small step backwards and leaned his body to his right, managing both to avoid the attack, and to grab both the girl's hands in his own, forcing her to come to a stop.

"Cocky," he winked at her as he forced her hands back to her own neck, rendering her unconscious just as soon as they touched her skin.

 **A/N: Thanks for reading! Hope you enjoyed it :)**


End file.
